Faith, Hope and Blackmail
by Yonahdoxie57
Summary: "I'll be fine, it's you. Tell me what happens in a trial? Heaven didn't come in this flavor when I was here." Crowley just loved to see the corner of Aziraphale's mouth go up. Anything to take his attention away from his own aching ribs. Crowley was blackmailed to abandon him and despised being in such a sorry state in front of his best friend who was facing punishment from heaven.


"I'll be fine, it's you... Tell me what happens in a trial? Heaven didn't come in that flavor when I was here." Crowley just loved to see the corner of Aziraphale's mouth go up. Anything to take his attention away from his own aching ribs. Crowley despised being in such a sorry state in front of his best friend who was facing punishment from heaven.

They were enjoying a usual afternoon spot of lunch together. This particular cafe had beautiful outdoor seating, right along the busy sidewalk, that Aziraphale just adored. After all this time one of his favorite activities was people watching. However, he had no clue that this activity actually had a name and that humans enjoyed it too. The demon sitting across from him, his frequent and only lunch date, did not share this hobby but instead liked to judge the people as they walked briskly back to work before their lunch hour was up.

"Stuck up...Prissy... Twat... Hipster... Another twat... Greedy bastard." Crowley boiled in his small iron chair as he mindlessly sipped his red wine.

"Are you referring to that young man, there? As the... Well my, I'm not going to repeat it." Aziraphale disagreed entirely.

"The greedy bastard?" Crowley knew which label he meant. "No no. That dog over there. He's just too fat! Probably sneaks kibble and treats all night. Either that or guilts his humans all day. Torturing them with those utterly disgusting eyes of his." He sneered.

"My word, I've never met a truly bad dog. You can never tell a book by its cover!" Aziraphale quoted properly.

"Ah, of course you'd bring Fuller into this! My point still stands." Crowley took a long gulp of wine as he watched his best friend get flustered and defend dogs on their natural good nature. The angel went on and on about it. The demon stopped listening to him and just watched his mannerisms. They bought a grin to his face against the lip of the wine glass.

He cut off Aziraphale mid sentence. "You know what I think!?"

"Wha-What's that?" Aziraphale was flustered but willing to be the better man and allow the interruption.

"You're my favorite." Crowley leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the look on his angel's face.

"I...I...b-beg your pardon?"

"That's it! You're my favorite!" He placed his wine down matter-of-factly.

There was a awkward pause, during which one friend was comfortable and the other was not. The latter spoke. "Your... Favorite, what exactly?" Aziraphale's face didn't exactly blush but his expression was covered with questions that he couldn't put into words.

"Well... You name it! My favorite angel, friend, business partner, luncheon-er, bibliofile, ethereal being, um... sword wielder, shoe wearer...I could go on..."

The angel's mouth was slightly agape and he didn't speak.

Crowley filled the empty space with more words. "Very well then, I shall... Let's see, my favorite sushi lover, road trip buddy, oh drinking buddy, almost forgot that one, my fav-"

"Alright then! I see what you're getting at. Why are you telling me this?" Aziraphale didn't like talking about their etherealism in public.

Crowley stumbled in his explanation. "Well, because, as I can see from your reaction, you didn't know you were my favorite so I'm telling you, so now you know." He grasped his wine again and sipped.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Am I to simply accept?"

"Yes."

"Do you need something in return?"

"Nothing what-so-ever."

"Fine."

"Alrighty then."

They clinked their glasses together and smiled. Behind the demon's smile sat disappointment but the angel didn't notice. Crowley hid it well, after all, he was the first to perfect the 'poker face' as well as the game itself.

Crowley did not plan on saying this. He just felt like he should at that moment. However, Aziraphale was concerned this was some sort of confession of love and he, personally, was taken by surprise, shocked to say the least and altogether not at all prepared.

The rest of the lunch was silent except for the sound of women in heels, distant dogs barking on occasion, the rush of pedestrian chatter, foot traffic, cars, crosswalks and silverware on plates.

When the waitress had taken their bill and returned with the receipt she handed the sleek black parcel back to the demon. However, the inside did not just carry a receipt but a threat.

Written on the back of a folded photograph, with quite beautiful penmanship I might add, in purple ink, a note that could threaten even the demon.

The photograph that could ruin everything. The pair of them sitting on the park bench, shaking hands and switching bodies after the end was ended or rather, never began.

The backside note stated:

"We know. We will make his existence miserable. We will burn it all down. Unless, you walk away. Right now. And never speak to him again."

Crowley jumped up. He frantically looked around. He searched the faces of the passerbys, the cafe guests and the wait staff. Nothing.

"My word, what ever is the matter, dear? Aziraphale stood to leave. "I'm certain the bill wasn't that large. How about I cover tomorrow's. Same time?"

Crowley wasn't paying attention.

Ever since they stopped the apocalypse as it were, Aziraphale had truly enjoyed their lunch dates together. Every day Crowley would drive up at 11:45 right to the front step of the bookshop to gather up his best friend for their lunch. Aziraphale would have just flipped the closed sign around on the shop door, would hop right in his passenger seat and excitedly go on about which spot they would be eating at today.

This lunch would be their last.

Crowley looked longingly at his angel

for the last time

without words to say.

Nothing he could say would be enough.

He took the Bentley's keys out of his pocket and placed them in his best friend's hand without hesitation.

"What's this? I'm not driving! You're not nearly drunk." Crowley started to walk away. "Where are you going? Are you upset?! Crowley!" But he continued to walk with urgency down the busy sidewalk against the direction of the others and he didn't stop.

It had been five weeks since that lunch date at the cute cafe. Aziraphale thought Crowley would return any day now in a drunk mess, apologizing profusely, not that an apology was necessary. He carried on normally, opening and running the book shop with care. However, he stopped going out for lunch. The angel didn't need to eat and now that his lunch date was missing in action, more than half the reason for going out for lunch was missing too.

He tried calling his flat but he never answered. He even left voicemails reassuring him he liked being his "favorite" and apologized for his reaction.

He couldn't wait any longer. Guilt now mixed with worry and fear for his friend. Before he opened the book shop one, wet Thursday morning, he decided to take a cab over to Crowley's flat. He knocked politely at first, calling out to him but then impatiently miracled the doors open.

A pile of mail was on the floor just inside. Aziraphale took a large step over it and proceeded.

The kitchen, untouched.

His office and bedroom bare.

Then he made his way through the hallway and gasped at the sight of Crowley's beloved plants. They were no longer verdant and lushious. They were dry, crumpled and brown. The soil was dry as ash. They would be reduced to crispy dust if they had been touched.

"My dear, what happened to you lot? What happened to your care taker?" Aziraphale couldn't stand to see them like this so he miracled them anew. He went to the kitchen to search for a watering can and maybe that spray bottle and returned with refreshing drink for all the plants.

"Now, don't you worry, I'll find your care taker, but in the meantime I will take his place. You will not be neglected again." The plants shouted for joy, in silence.

Aziraphale showered the plants happily while he considered all the things that would have caused Crowley to neglect his babies like this.

There was nothing to decifer he just left.

After the plants were happy he went to look through the mail. He wanted to find the lastest post mark to see if Crowley had indeed just left that day at the cafe or if he was home for a time.

He sat, crossed legged on the marble floor and organized the mail until he came upon something that was neither a bill nor an advertisement.

A long white envelope adorned an everyday stamp with hand written address to Antony J. Crowley. He opened it and found a ripped off piece of paper from a note pad that said.

"Mister Crowley, you and your friend left this at the cafe so we called your credit card company for the address. Also left this nice picture at the table. Have a good day, hope to see you again soon! -The Frothy Frog Cafe

Enclosed was the aforementioned credit card and the picture. Aziraphale dropped it as if burned when he realized what it was. Only then did he see the writing on the back. The purple script stung his heart.

"No." He gasped. "No, they wouldn't! He wouldn't... They... We're the good guys!"

Soon enough Aziraphale arrived at the main entrance to heaven. He stormed into the lobby and didn't ride the escalator as much as stomped up.

He walked through a floor or two before he found Gabriel. The gentle, kind book keeper tapped Gabriel on the shoulder and then at the very moment he turned around, before he realized who had bothered him, Aziraphale promptly punched Gabriel right in the face and he fell onto the perfectly clean floor.

"For heaven's sake, Gabriel! What have you become?! Lowering yourself to blackmail! Wanting something as dirty as revenge?! How have you not fallen yet?!" Aziraphale yelled, now being held back by other angels.

"Aziraphale?" Gabriel wiped the bright blue blood from his mouth. "We never thought we would see you again. What are talking about?"

"Don't toy with me!" Aziraphale shouted in one of his first moments of absolute anger. "I have the note! You threatened him! You blackmailed him! Just to get to me, just for revenge! You're no brother of mine, Gabriel!" Aziraphale motioned for one of the angels to reach into his vest pocket for the picture and the note.

It exchanged a few hands before making it back it's author.

"Oh, this little thing?" Gabriel admitted. "Just making sure you're being punished for what you've done. Without your boyfriend, life on Earth wouldn't be as enjoyable will it? Well, nevermind that. Since you sauntered in on your own accord why don't you stay? Heaven's newest prisoner."

"He's not my... We aren't... It's not like that. Is that really what you think?" Aziraphale contended their relationship status not the bit about being imprisoned.

He was dragged down hallways and stuffed into elevators. Finally, he was shoved into a small cell, complete with a sad excuse for a bed against the back wall. He was given a plain white robe to change into. Nothing celestial about it. The front wall of the cell was glass, or rather plexiglass infused with miracles and holes like that on a jar you caught some bugs in.

To make things worse Aziraphale's miracle making abilities were taken away. He was informed that there would be a trial to determine whether or not to clip his wings, a punishment that had only ever been carried out upon two angels in all of history: Lazarus' guardian angel and the angel that was supposed to be guarding the succession of Popes but was infact found guilty of working with the enemy by tempting the popes.

Clipping an angel's wings had one of two outcomes; firstly they could actually die, as in, cease to exsist, but this would happen a few days after the amputation, not right away. Secondly, the angel would lose all it's angelic power forever and never be allowed to return to heaven. Unless, of course, the soul was good enough to come to heaven in it's afterlife and saught forgiveness for all it's poor choices that led to the clipping of it's wings, which was unlikely.

No one bothered to explain to Aziraphale that the trial wouldn't be until next Wednesday, so he was nervously pacing for days.

Until he got a new cell mate.

The snake demon, the one made infamous from the actual garden of Eden, sauntered over another sand dune somewhere in the middle of Africa. It had been weeks since civilization had shown it's face and that was just his new way of life. With nothing but the clothes on his back the cold blooded creature walked the desert. He thought about how many centuries it would take for him to become a legendary desert monster, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monsters. How many sightings would it take? What should his name be? How long until Aziraphale would take notice. No, nix that last one. There would be no more Aziraphale in his life, not now or ever again. Only memories of his best and fondest friendship and their wine filled lunch dates to think upon from now until eternity. The demon would cry at times, especially when he thought of something particularly endearing about that angel. Which soon moved to angry screaming at the wide open sky, otherwise-known-as, God.

"HOW?!" Crowley argued with the cloudless blue once again. "How could you let your angels be so CRUEL?! And yet let me fall so easily?!? It's like you wanted me to fall! You WANTED me to suffer! Well? Is that it then? Cause here I am... Suffering!" He caught his breath and fell to his knees on the pillowy sand. "Just make them stop... Please, just make it stop. I miss my angel... Please, God, just please listen to me this time, just this once... At least tell me he's okay..." He sniffed and held his head low and waited for an answer he knew would never come.

But then...

"Crowley...?" A smooth voice called gently.

"Hmm?" Crowley was calm at first then his late reaction started with a jolt and a fall onto his rear. The desert sun was bright but nothing compared to the light of the Almighty beaming down on you. He was speechless.

"Aziraphale is NOT okay and I think it would be best if you went and saved him from the others. You see, you and I have something in common: Aziraphale is my favorite too." God spoke.

Crowley's mouth hung open. He had so many questions but none of them left his lips.

The Lord continued. "There's an entrance gate to heaven to the West. Go quickly." God added. The light vanished and Crowley was blanketed in the weight of the desert sun again.

"I...um... Right... Yes... To the West ... I'll just go then." Crowley jolted and suddenly began to run.

Crowley came to an oasis and entered heaven through the pool of water easily. Once on the other side his clothes were clean, glasses shiny, and hair sticky-upy once again. He lurked around the edges of heaven's vast rooms, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the angels who might recognize him and trying to ignore the suffocating air that stung his demon lungs with every breath. It was good that heaven was particularly more crowded than normal, or rather, as far as Crowley knew, more full than when he was here last, disguised as Aziraphale. It was filled with chatting groups or pairs like it was an art gala of sorts. But there wasn't any art, little shops, champagne, little sausages wrapped in pastry or chestnuts wrapped in bacon. Just the angels chattering away happily.

Crowley leaned into one conversation just close enough to hear.

"It's going to start as soon as they get everyone inside!"

"Yes, I've got a friend on the jury."

"Who?"

"I cannot say, they are sworn to secrecy."

"How exciting!"

"The first trial in how many years?"

"About a hundred or so."

"I do hope they choose to clip his wings."

"Well, they always do it once it gets to this point."

"Why even have a trial?"

"It's proper and fair this way. For the greater good."

"Yes, the greater good."

Crowley walked away. He had to find Aziraphale fast. They must have been discussing a trial for his angel. He had to find where they were keeping him. He walked around and politely asked questions to the younger angels who, he hoped, wouldn't recognize him.

Aziraphale was being held in a cell made especially for angels. There was just the one in all of heaven and Earth. An angel inside of it was rendered powerless but not entirely human. He was peckish, not for the delicious rich foods at the Ritz or clean and salty sushi but he wasn't starving either. A small sandwich would do. He was thirsty but not for aged wine or a nice cup of tea but he wasn't parched either. A glass of water would be nice. Not only that but Aziraphale had actually made use of the bed/stone-slab and found some hours of sleep here and there. He didn't know it but he had almost spent a week in the cell.

He was taking his time rubbing the bridge of his nose while pacing again when he heard steps down the hall.

Two angels came to escort him into the hall where the trial would take place.

A circular room. Smooth, nearly white stone steps encircled a small stage at the center. The ceiling could not be seen since the distance of the highest and farthest seats were so high and far away that a haze built up.

After the hearing he was taken back to his cell.

"Here." One of the two angels carrying a lifeless body clad in black spoke. "Your boyfriend tried to rescue you. Didn't work."

The cell door was miracled open and Crowley was haphazardly tossed in Aziraphale's general direction. He barely caught the lanky demon, but his arms met the underside of his.

"My dear! Who did this?!"

"We found him lurking and taught him a lesson."

"Who?" Aziraphale demanded a reply.

"Basically... about two hundred angels, give or take." At that the pair of angels turned and walked back down the hall.

"W-wait! You can't leave him in this state! I can't heal him in here!! Are you listening?! This is cruel!" Aziraphale held back the fealing of tears. He focused his attention on poor Crowley.

His face was bloody and bruised but placid. They really knocked him out cold. Just on the off chance something would work Aziraphale tried to heal him. Not a single droplet of blood was put back in it's proper place.

Aziraphale's breathing became quicker. Sweat was upon his brow and he fidgeted, trying to find his handkerchief and remembering he wasn't in his normal clothes he gathered the end of his sleeve instead. Not for himself but for his friend. He used it to gently tap at the blood around Crowley's mouth that had trickled down his neck and jaw. The demon was situated on his back upon the lap of the sitting angel with one arm flailed onto the ground. Smears of his deep red blood caught one's attention upon on the white marble floor.

Aziraphale whispered, not because he didn't want others to hear but because he was terrified. "For heaven's sake, Crowley, what made you do this? Look at the state you're in. You'll be discorperated if you keep this up." He did his best to keep in regular tone but it was cracking on his throat. "What were you doing? God, where have you been all this time? I...I suppose I'm in a spot of bother at the moment but there was no need for this. They'll destroy you without blinking. Why are you here? Why did you come?"

It was at that that Crowley leaned into Aziraphale's touch on the side of his forehead and softly replied. "I'm on a mission from God."

"Oh! Crowley! You're alright!" He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. "Thank goodness!" The words now ruffled into Crowley's shoulder.

"Ahh! Not quite!" The demon flinched and groaned.

"Oh, oh my I'm sorry! So sorry! Here let's get you up on the bed." While Aziraphale did most of the work Crowley talked quietly between wincing.

"I... I'm so sorry Aziraphale. I couldn't... Tell you why. It was the hardest thing... I've ever done. Hell knows I missed you."

"And I, you. Very much. Now please lay down here. We've got to stop you from bleeding so much."

"I'll be fine." Crowley coughed and his hand flew up to clutch across his chest.

"Your ribs, you poor thing." Aziraphale frowned. He had knelt next to the shelf where his friend lay in pain.

"Oh! Aziraphale! God! God told me to come and sav-" His excitement got the best of him and he coughed more.

"Calm down for goodness sake! You'll make it worse! Are you not in pain?"

"Excruciating. But pain is an old friend."

Crowley bragged but it only made Aziraphale frown deeper. "Listen, I'm serious, God spoke to me, in the bloody desert! She used the light and everything! She told me to come and get you out. She said... Aziraphale you won't believe me but, she said her and I had something in common."

"What? No."

"I know. Right?"

"Well get on with it." The angel begged.

"She said that you are her favorite too."

Aziraphale stood up. Mouth open.

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Crowley added. "Hey, this is great right?"

"M-me? Meeee?"

"Aziraphale, you're a wonderful being, don't act so shocked... Wait a minute... Are you okay?" Crowley bit back the pain and dizziness to sit up on an elbow.

"I'm... I'm ... It's this cell. I'm not fully angel in here and... And I think..."

"Please don't faint! Come sit down before you fall down! Az, focus!" Crowley snapped his fingers to get the angels attention.

"Right, you're right. I think...I think I should do just that. Have a nice sit down. Okay." His walk was wobbly at best. Crowley reached out and as soon as he could he pulled Aziraphale to sit at his side. Crowley squeezed his friend's hand for support but let him process it silently.

A few minutes later Aziraphale composed his thoughts together and smiled to himself.

"I'm alright now."

"You sure?" Crowley asked weakly. While those past few minutes past his head began to throb and spin. His chest pain had either turned numb or was getting better, probably not getting better. If this cell turned angels human, what did it do to demons?

"Yes, indeed. How are you, dear?"

"Wellll, you know." He shifted with a wince. "I've been better."

"Crowley, this is not a time to be so carefree."

"Have you met me?" Crowley grinned his grin into a chuckle which morphed into a cough. Aziraphale leaned in close to wipe the blood that trickled from his friend's mouth.

"You're going to discorperate if we don't get you out of here."

"Angel..." Crowley took his administering hand away from his face to get him to focus. "I'll be just fine, it's you... Can you tell me what happens in a trial for an angel? Heaven didn't come in that flavor when I was here." Crowley just loved to see the corner of Aziraphale's mouth go up when he was being witty. Anything to take his attention away from his own wounds. He couldn't stand being in such a sorry state especially in front of his best friend who was facing trial.

"Well nothing good. It's not a trial persay, just a chance to make the punishment official really. So there's no one to blame but Justice herself."

"And the wing clipping? Just the tips or the whole thing or what?"

"Taken entirely. It's never been survivable. They die a few days after the amputation, shock, blood loss, grief. Terrible ordeal. I've never stayed to observe, far to barbaric. But here we are." Aziraphale sighed. "Whatever shall we do, my dear?"

"We're..." Crowley sat up with his own strength and a grunt. "getting you the hell out."

"Don't push yourself!" Aziraphale whined and needlessly reached out to steady the demon.

"I'm really much better." Crowley demonstrated by standing up with a bounce and did two jumping jacks as a quick demonstration.

"But... how?" Aziraphale looked on astonished.

"A good question for later. No! Hang on a tick! You don't think..." Crowley nervously pointed upwards. "Wait. If I'm here in heaven pointing up, the gesture for you-know-who doesn't really make any sense. Do you point sideways, or over your shoulder?" Crowley demonstrated his ideas.

Aziraphale was amused by the demon's antics again and replied. "That particular conundrum had never been a line of inquiry, no. Since the Almighty is everywhere all the time gesturing in any of those ways would always be correct."

"I know that!" Crowley barked with a smile. "But still! I think we sh-"

*Snap*

Aziraphale had been zapped to his trial again and wouldn't hear the last words Crowley spoke.

After hours and hours of pacing in the cell another snap landed Aziraphale in the center of the floor gasping for air.

"Angel! What-" He needed to lunge for his best friend before he fell. The angel's eyes rolled back and his muscles all quit at the same time.

"Got you." Crowley cooed. "What did they do to you, Angel?"

That was when he felt a warm liquid on his hand that had been holding onto Aziraphale's back. The demon swallowed before he slowly brought his hand into sight. His worst fear proved true: blood.

Far too much blood for a regular wound. This was the doing of an angelic weapon. Not only that but the placement was unmistakably from the place where the wings should have been.

Aziraphale's wings were gone.

The only punishment worse than falling.

"No..." Crowley whispered. "I was too late... But she sent me to save you... How could they... It wasn't supposed to be like this...I...I-" Crowley shuddered into Aziraphale's neck as he embraced them together tightly, the angel's arm limp to the ground. Crowley's tears had only just began when he was interrupted.

"LEAVE." An angel ordered from outside the cell. He then opened the door and stepped aside. "NOW." He demanded.

"What?" Crowley looked over his glasses.

"NOW!"

"WHAT?!" Crowley was infuriated. "After a millennia of loyalty you just kick him to the curb?! He's DYING!" Crowley choked on the last words.

"We. Don't. Care. LEAVE."

"I'm coming back...for ALL of you." Crowley mustered up all his strength into the most intimidating of glares. His emotions fully backed his threat. After Aziraphale was gone, he fully intended on returning to inflict as much carnage as possible before losing his own life in the battle. Hopefully sliced by as many angelic weapons as possible so there would be no way of surviving. There would be no more surviving without Aziraphale.

Crowley, satisfied with his threat, changed his attitude to his dying friend. He gingerly picked up the broken angel, one arm under his legs and the other across his back. Aziraphale's head curled into Crowley while one arm hung loose. Crowley then stood and prayed out loud. "If you could grant me a miracle, please, get us the hell out of here and take us home?"

Without hesitation, God granted.

Crowley found himself standing next to his own bed, in his own flat, still holding his own angel. It took him a moment to soak in what had happened, God answered his prayer, like immediately. He placed Aziraphale on top of the covers, taking care to be gentle with his head. He took in Aziraphale's expression of agony even in unconsciousness and grimaced himself.

"As long as you're feeling generous then just heal him! Stop making him suffer!" Crowley yelled at the lofted ceilings.

A light flutter caught his attention.

The blood was gone.

Aziraphale rested peacefully.

"Well, that was easy." Crowley smiled. "Thank you!"

God replied. "You're very welcome. Now I can punish them without regret. Tell Aziraphale I'm sorry for the trouble. His pain was for a good deed. Everything is as it should be again."

At that the voice was gone and Crowley was left with a sleeping angel.

Crowley waited patiently for Aziraphale to wake. Meanwhile he heard of many new fallen angels joining the ranks of demons. He was satisfied with God's wrath, enough to quench his own revenge for now.

The angel stirred and rolled up onto his side. He breathed trying to fall back asleep but then he remembered all that had transpired and he shot his eyes open.

"No!!" He yelled.

Crowley nearly spilled his tea all over the book he was reading. He was sitting in an arm chair next to the bed. "Woah! Hey! Alrighty then! It's okay! You're alright!"

"But but but!" He started.

"I know. I know. You're all patched up. Just weak from the ordeal. Rest easy, calm now for pity's sake." Crowley leaned to him and placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.

Aziraphale looked up, unbelieving.

Crowley explained everything, the clipping, the escape, God's healing, God's wrath and the message of thanks and apology from the Almighty herself.

The angel listened.

It was all a lot to take in but in time and with tea Aziraphale accepted the tile he played.

In the end, the angel knew these three remained: faith in God to watch over him, hope for real justice and equality, and the love of his best friend.


End file.
